Ever so Beautiful
by Szept
Summary: Max suspects that her parents wouldn't approve of her latest photography subject.


'Click'

Five years ago she would have called Chloe pretty. And she still is of course, she hasn't lost anything (bar manners perhaps) that Max used to think made her such.

But pretty, is a word she would have used five years ago. When she looks at her now, the young photographer can only think 'beautiful'.

Chloe is not the classical beauty type, she is tall, lanky and it would take a God's intervention (or maybe just surgeon's, hard to tell these days) to make her chest visible at the first glance. But those are not the things that the brunette takes into consideration when thinking of her oldest friend. No, when Max says she's beautiful she means the way she is as a whole, not just her looks, those are pretty, no more no less. Her beauty lies in the way she carries herself, the way she is the center of attention, in that she dyes her hair, that she refuses to take anybody's shit. That's what Max means.

But most of all, she means her eyes. Again, not because they make Chloe beautiful but because it's the bluenette that makes them beautiful, makes them expressive, alive. There are people who's eyes are dead, guarded, not Chloe's. Hers truly are the mirror of her soul, she can read so much from them. Admiration, happiness, anger, excitement, it's her eyes that make her alive.

Beautiful is too small a word to describe Chloe's eyes.

"Max! Cut it out will you?"

Chloe herself however, doesn't seem to realize it. Perhaps for the better, she's mischievous enough as it is and if she were to start putting conscious effort into her please oh please puppy eyes look then Max would really be in trouble. Huh, she wouldn't have to hunt for the right moments to take her pictures though. Because seriously, asking the girl to pose when genuine emotion isn't backing her actions is a waste of time and effort.

"Max!"

Luckily, the older girl hardly ever seems short on those.

"I swear to fucking God, I'll kick your ass when I get out of here." Well yes, she probably would.

Without a word, she takes a step to the side, looking for a better shot, but it's still too early to really go at it. She only has seven shots left after all.

A pity she didn't take more, though again, it will make what she does photograph all the more precious. It's also good that she replaced the instant film after shooting that doe. While she has all the time she needs, true... there is still only so far that her power can go back and she prefers not to rush anything. Playing it safe, that's the way to go.

She doesn't want Chloe to get hurt after all.

Because really, she has a knack for it. She somehow managed to shoot herself with a car bumper of all things! Had Max not been there the bluenette would have died (she doubts that Frank would have managed to stabilize Chloe long enough for an ambulance to arrive, if he cared enough about his money to go through the trouble of calling for it. Max would have in his place, it's a lot of cash), moot point anyway, she would have been dead since yesterday. It's like the world has it out for her.

She chuckles at the thought, all the while adjusting her camera. Nineteen years and there she goes, getting shot twice in just two days. That... has to be some kind of record actually, for a civilian, maybe. That and the fact she's still living after those two lethal wounds. Pity they shouldn't really brag about it. Max doesn't fancy being locked up in some black, desert lab.

"I'm serious, cut the crap and get me out of here." She's getting angry, and something else just behind it. Not exactly what she wants but Max will settle for one or two photos like that, to better capture the changing emotions from one frame to another. Wait! Yes, that will be a great shot! Max decides when she finally recognizes what that other hint of emotion in the shadow of Chloe's anger is.

Anxiousness, she's starting to worry that her friend won't help her. Probably doesn't even realize it herself just yet but it has to be it. The faint trace of worry that comes from the more primal part of mind that stops people from entrusting their lives to others.

Now that is not something that Chloe has to worry about, not at all. She would never let her friend die as long as she has any say in it. She didn't yesterday, nor an hour ago, so even statistic says the older girl has nothing to worry about.

Thankfully, she's not in the know. Max only told her about Nathan after all. It would be an utter disaster if she had shown Chloe the photos she took after the car bumper fiasco. Those are some good shots, not exactly for the public eye but what does it matter? It's enough for Max that she captured the moment and all the emotion and beauty behind it.

Her eyes most of all. Max hasn't yet had the time to even look at those particular photos but she doesn't need to. She remembers the haunted look in those captivating eyes with perfect clarity. She remembers the surprise, disbelief, fear and pain. All reflecting so vibrantly in those perfect, blue orbs.

Not capturing their beauty would be a sin, surely.

"Fuck, Max, please, just- help me out of here."

Though sometimes it's like she'd deliberately trying to ruin the moment. Yes, she's supposed to beg at some point but what she's doing now isn't begging. She thinks and sounds like she still has some control over the situation. And that's not at all what Max is going for, she wants her helpless, hopeless, pleading.

She briefly contemplates telling the older girl that she won't help her. That she'll leave her to her 'fate'. But that would interfere with Chloe in a way she can't predict. She's already got a perfect set, why risk ruining it? Maybe if she were better with words she could try influencing the outcome but, well, she's not. Better let the chips fall as they may. It's more real that way, more natural, yeah sure it's only she that would know the shots weren't spontaneous. Problem is, she's making these photos for herself after all.

Her mind set, she moves off the tracks again, at an angle and closer to Chloe so that she may capture both the train when it comes and a part of Chloe's profile. Hats don't show much emotion after all.

'Click'

"Fucks sake Caulfield, I said help me out!" Ugh, there she goes calling her Caulfield again. She doesn't like being called by surname. It's not rude per se but in this case, it's meant to be. And really, she shouldn't be put through this because she's doing them both a favor. They get one in a thousand opportunity to get some amazing shots and what does Chloe do? Raves to be released. For cereal, she said she'd be her sidekick but she's not very good at following direction. "Max this isn't funny!"

A train's whiz- much closer this time, catches both of their attention making Chloe look towards the yet empty track and Max raise the camera to her eye-

'Click'

-a flash of fear this time. She bites her lip. Not daring to look away, afraid to miss even one minute detail.

She slowly shuffles back two steps to get a better wholesome shot. While the bluenette glances at her, before shouting a curse and redoubling her efforts to the accompaniment of another long whiz, frantically trying to pull her leg out of the railing's trap. She seems almost in frenzy as she tries to rip her trapped foot out, Max hopes it isn't somehow crushed, she can't rewind so far back as to spare her friend the pain of dealing with it. The older girl doesn't seem to be in much pain but it may be just adrenaline, honestly, Max herself is trembling a little from excitement (not so much to interfere with her photos quality, thankfully). And that's just from watching!

Chloe turns back to Max, eyes pleading and full of despair-

'Click'

"Max please, I don't know the hell is this about but just- just get me out. Please!"

The photographer draws in a shaky breath, trying to calm her suddenly heavy breathing. This is what she means when she's talking about her eyes. And she has no idea. No idea! And Max can't take her eyes off the girl in front of her, entranced by the beauty of those blue, blue eyes.

She is broken out of her reverie when she sees the train, finally coming from around the hill in all its massive glory.

"Max?" Uncertain, scared, wavering.

She snaps another picture when Chloe looks towards it and changes her position again, this time to capture only her friend as the train's presence in the shot is no longer needed. It's all about the bluenette now. The train doesn't matter, it's there, she knows it, Chloe knows it, it's unchanging, Chloe is not. If she looked scared before then she's absolutely horrified now. Eyes wild, unkept hair framing her disbelieving face. Breathing becoming haggard and every muscle rigid, about to spring into action.

'Click'

Perfect.

"Crazy, you're fucking crazy." The trapped girl says under her breath before frantically lifting herself off the ground on her hands and putting her free foot under herself, managing to half-stand on it. Ah, she's going to try and fall forward, breaking her leg in the process but "saving" her life in exchange. Good thinking, pointless really, but good thinking all the same. Were the younger girl not here, she would only loose a leg instead of her life. That's her Chloe. Again, not that it matters, Max is here after all.

A terrible noise of brakes grating on the rails hits them both just as Chloe is about to make her jump, making Max wince in pain and the punk slip and with a shout of pain, slam stomach down onto the railing, her upper body outside of tracks but still remaining there from waist down, with a leg twisted at an unnatural angle and herself having air knocked out from her lungs. Well, that didn't quite work as she probably hoped it would... Are those tears in her eyes?

The photographer walks up closer and crouches- nearly lies down, to see that indeed, Chloe is crying, out of pain, out of terror and desperation.

'Click'

She puts the photo in her bag and casts a quick glance at the ever closing train, judging the moment at which she should take the next picture. She kneels on the ground, just far enough away so that she won't be touched by the machine but close enough to Chloe that she can see the swollen blood vessels in her friend's eyes.

She feels a shiver building up just looking at them. That's... the most she has ever seen in anyone's eyes. A perfect shot in making, one of the best in history maybe. Showing all the fear, dulling the rage and even that overpowered by desperate hope when looking at Max. Hope that she will help her.

Max smiles reassuringly. Chloe chokes back a sob.

In the first second, the bluenette's eyes widen when a massive weight crashes into her back, so filled with pain that they almost seem to burst, both figuratively, and literally out of orbits. A silent cry (or one that Max can't hear in any case because of the ear splitting noise of the train brakes) visible for but a moment before her mouth slams shut, grinding teeth in a wasted effort to relieve some of the agony. Her arms jerking without any semblance of conscious thought, as if on strings, violently pulled by a monkey. In the second, a bloody cough escapes her lips and lands on Max's shirt, forced by a tremendous pressure that has by now cut her body in half, spattering gore on the ground and train alike, leaving one half of Chloe lifeless, and another only marginally less so, still writhing in torment for a moment before finally shutting down to bleed out in peace.

Max stares at the corpse of her friend, transfixed, taking in every detail. By now deafened and not hearing the train itself, not hearing anything save the ringing in her ears. Not seeing anything but the mutilated body in front of her, feeling only the altogether not unpleasant twists and turns in her stomach.

It takes her a couple of seconds before she gets her bearing back and she takes the photo she took during all that out of the camera and checks its quality.

Ugh. She missed the moment she was going for. She got the blood spitting part which is... well, a great shot, yes. Chloe's remaining insides coiling on themselves to let out the pressure built up inside, agonizing pain clearly etched on her face. But it's all technical, it's taken well after the moment her friend got run over, capturing only the following results. It's beautiful, yes, but it is also empty. A triumph of form over substance.

No. She has to catch the exact moment when her body is already reacting to the damage but the brain hasn't caught up yet, all pure emotion unhindered by the mind shattering torture of being ripped in half under a train. Hm, how many photos did she take again?

The brunette stands up and stuffs the latest picture inside her bag, checking the number of shots already there. Seven in total. Damn, she only has one film left so she better makes it count.

She crouches beside the probably already dead body just as the train's back end passes her and after a moment of thought, she zips her hoodie up and adjusts her position to get a better shot without getting sprayed by Chloe's bloody vomit this time around. It might soak through her hoodie if there's too much of it. Her shirt is probably a lost cause already! No reason to add another article of clothing to that list.

She focuses on her memory of the last half a minute or so, forcing the time to slowly wind back, it's a fascinating thing to watch someone's blood and guts returning to their natural habitat. To see massacred muscles knitting back up. Curiously, the girl finds the train itself going backwards the most bizarre thing of it all. She must have seen too many slow-mo videos of gory scenes and not enough of trains. Come to think of it, has she ever?

She lets the time flow again, giving herself some three seconds to make ready. She doesn't want to overdo it. Lest she blacks out again and that would be... problematic. Rewinding hours back is (still) outside of her realm of capability. But three seconds are more than enough.

She doesn't let herself be distracted this time, when the moment comes, she is ready and immediately presses the shutter. But, just as the first time, she doesn't check her work right away, choosing instead to observe what the train's wheels do to her blue haired friend. It's only when the last wagon passes on that she rips her eyes away from the bluenette and lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Forces a shiver somewhere inside down, she looks at the photo she took this time.

The first steel wheel just cutting into her back, the disc itself blurred, with the blood that is surely on it not visible. Her whole body going rigid before the pain ever starts, already knowing that something is very wrong but the signal not yet processed by brain. Her mouth just clenching shut as a first reaction, her tear stained eyes wide but not yet clouded by pain. Not yet replacing the terror in them, not yet void of desperation, still filled with senseless hope, defying all odds in hope of avoiding what has already came.

Perfect.

It's perfect. Likely the most perfect shot Max has ever taken. Capturing all there was to be captured in those gorgeous, captivating eyes in the split moment between life and death. Pure. Unburdened by thought. Nothing but raw emotion.

She smiles and stashes the photo with the rest. Then wistfully looks at Chloe. A pity she doesn't have any more film for her camera. It's times like this that she considers getting a pro digital camera. She has her phone if she really has to yeah but... it just feels disrespectful to the art of photography to use a mobile like that. No. She got all she could, no more film, no more photos. Not with a phone at least.

She takes a lock of blue hair between her fingers and sighs. As much as she'd like to admire the view a bit longer, that would risk not being able to rewind far enough for Chloe not to remember this, or even worse. Should things go south like after the shooting practice, if she were to black out again? She might not be able to rewind far enough to put Chloe back in one piece at all!

And that just wouldn't do. She doesn't want to hurt Chloe after all.

* * *

Yes, this is pricefield. No, it is not fluffy, or healthy, or normal.

At all.

Cover art created by Lunast on tumblr.


End file.
